Атлант расправил плечи
The Chain
Whateveritwas,hethought,whateverthestrainandtheagony,theywereworthit,becausetheyhadmadehimreachthisday—thisdaywhenthefirstheatofthefirstorderofReardenMetalhadbeenpoured,tobecomerailsforTaggartTranscontinental.
Hetouchedthebraceletinhispocket.Hehadhaditmadefromthatfirstpouredmetal.Itwasforhiswife.
Ashetouchedit,herealizedsuddenlythathehadthoughtofanabstractioncalled"hiswife"—notofthewomantowhomhewasmarried.Hefeltastabofregret,wishinghehadnotmadethebracelet,thenawaveofself-reproachfortheregret.
Heshookhishead.Thiswasnotthetimeforhisolddoubts.Hefeltthathecouldforgiveanythingtoanyone,becausehappinesswasthegreatestagentofpurification.Hefeltcertainthateverylivingbeingwishedhimwelltonight.Hewantedtomeetsomeone,tofacethefirststranger,tostanddisarmedandopen,andtosay,"Lookatme."People,hethought,wereashungryforasightofjoyashehadalwaysbeen—foramoment’srelieffromthatgrayloadofsufferingwhichseemedsoinexplicableandunnecessary.Hehadneverbeenabletounderstandwhymenshouldbeunhappy.
Thedarkroadhadrisenimperceptiblytothetopofahill.Hestoppedandturned.Theredglowwasanarrowstrip,fartothewest.Aboveit,smallatadistanceofmiles,thewordsofaneonsignstoodwrittenontheblacknessofthesky:REARDENSTEEL.
Hestoodstraight,asifbeforeabenchofjudgment.
